


Run Home

by RamPant27



Category: Homestuck
Genre: AU, Angst, Bipolar Terezi, Bleeding, Blood, Child Abuse, Death, Drug Addiction, Elements of cultish magic, F/M, Fluff, Gay, Gore, Hanging, Human AU, Humanstuck, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, M/M, Murder, Near Death, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Schizophrenic Aradia, Schizophrenic Sollux, Summoning Rituals, Violence, Wounds, a lot of kids kill other kids, touch starvation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:27:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 17,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23977426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RamPant27/pseuds/RamPant27
Summary: After Daves recent move to the suburbs, he opens his door at 2am to a guy bleeding out on his doorstep.
Relationships: Dave Strider & Karkat Vantas, Dave Strider/Karkat Vantas, Dirk Strider & Karkat Vantas, Kanaya Maryam & Karkat Vantas, Rose Lalonde & Dave Strider, Sollux Captor & Karkat Vantas
Comments: 70
Kudos: 162





	1. Run

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo, so this is the first fic ive written that is actually fully planned out. so im mcfuckin hyped
> 
> TW: blood, retching, passing out

Flames licked the inside of his chest, searing pain tearing through his air supply. he wheezed out short breaths. Every muscle, every instinct, every nerve screaming _run_. His bag hitting rhythmically against his thigh. He carried himself on legs that had long since gone numb. Flashes of red burned into his memory, the smell of a metallic tang and ash flooding his senses as his feet thundered against the forest floor.

His heart pounded.

He hadn’t stopped moving, weaving between barely visible trees. The one time he’d stumbled on something that caught his foot in the shadows, fear grabbed hold of him like the jaws of a wolf, tears threatened to overtake him, and he retched, throat constricting violently, bile building up in his mouth. His legs wobbled as if they’d collapse. He couldnt let that happen. He forced himself forward, each step a leap of faith in the darkness that made his stomach lurch, and then, finally, a clearing. Houses scattered between trees that made his heart seize with hope, adding to the taught pain in his chest in a way that fuelled his pace to quicken. The further he ran, the closer the houses were huddled together. He kept moving until they were lined up one by one along a street.

Suddenly he was falling, his bag hitting the ground next to him, knees scraping rough asphalt. Searing pain. He let out a sharp hiss through gritted teeth, hauling himself to now aching feet. A ringing picked up in his ears, his heart beating rapidly in his chest.

As the adrenaline left him, the pain set in. His arm throbbed, his head pounded, his knees stinging. Coughing hard enough to make his vision swim and his lungs burn, he stumbled across an overgrown lawn to the sidewalk. The gashes in his arm burned as they oozed a steady stream of blood that dripped from his fingertips. The ringing intensified.

He stumbled up the steps to the front door of the closest house, and despite everything inside him that yelled _what are you doing, keep running, keep moving_. he let his fist hit harshly against the peeling white paint, the ache in his hand nothing compared to the nausea, the burning, the crushing pain that roared through his body.

When the door stood still and the lights inside remained dormant, he let himself fall to his knees again, his eyes swimming in swathes of black, lungs letting out a pitiful wheeze. The hope he clung to like a lifeline wavered. He knocked again, feeing like he was being submerged in murky water.

Immediately, before he had time to let his hand drop to his side, let the hope drain from him like the blood that flowed from his wounds, the door swung open, a burst of air cooling some of the sweat on his face.

His eyes locked onto his own reflection in a pair of dark shades that stared down at him. His wild, terrified eyes, face shining with sweat that dripped from his chin, and a head of matted curls. He let a delirious breathy laugh escape his lips.

“I-“

he chuckled,

“I look like _shit_ ”

The world tilted on its axis, andfaded to black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wrote this to get a feel for the story, and suddenly ive got an entire plot planned out. so strap in boys, we goin places. 
> 
> Also, at some point i forgot homophobia is a thing? So lmao none of that in this tale.


	2. Bloody and Rambling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this ones a lot longer than the last, i tend to update with short but frequent chapters.
> 
> TW: Blood, scars, passing out

Daves stomach felt like it was clawing at his insides, hollow and aching. It’d been four days since he had last eaten. He’d long since passed the “your muscles start deteriorating” mark, and he knew it. He ran out of food in his closet, but he was lucky, beyond lucky.

He heard the sound of a door at the opposite end of the hall click shut sometime around nine, which meant Bro had disappeared into his room three hours earlier than usual, and the house reeked of pot. The second Dave opened his door at 1am the scent hit him, his chest squeezed and he almost smiled.

Now, he was moving around the house as silently as possible at two in the morning, sweaty palm gripping a pocket sized flashlight. Ignoring the pain that had coiled itself around his midsection like a strangling python, he stayed completely silent. Dave slowed his breathing, sure to walk close to the walls where the sound of the creaking floorboards was lessened. He made his way past the bathroom, down the hall, and into the living space.

His heart seized when he aimed his light next to the couch, he the sight of a box of cereal sitting open on the floor. He couldn’t hide the smile on his face.

He picked up the box carefully, reaching a hand in, steeling himself against the sounds of the plastic inside rustling. He scooped up a small handful, dropping a few. He was eternally grateful to the weed that made his Bro hungry enough and buzzed enough to leave food scattered around the living room. He shovelled the cereal into his mouth, his shades bumping uncomfortably against his face. The relief that filled him was instantaneous, and he reached in for more.

Glancing up, he saw the coffee table scattered with a buffet of snacks, chips, cookies and so much fucking cereal.

By the time Daves internal clock told him that around half an hour had passed, he’d eaten everything Bro hadn’t finished but the chips, which he knew would be too loud to open now. As his jaw worked on a mini doughnut, he plotted how he’d carry the remaining bags without making too much noise.

Then, a solid “ _thunk_ ” had a jolt of panic shooting through his spine.

“ _thunk..thunk._ ”

Dread flooded through him. He spun to face the far wall, expecting to see a pair of pointed shades and a blank face. Instead he was greeted with a dark, empty room.

With his heart beating wildly in his chest, he moved to the source of the sound. He slid his flashlight into his back pocket, clicking it off.

_Is someone at the door? At 2am? Does that shit just happen in the suburbs? People just wander up to houses at ass in the morning like “yo do you have a moment to talk about our lord and saviour Jesus Christ?“ and you just open the door all “oh hell yes of course the classic 1am call of Jahovah-ism.”_

Wrapped up in his train of thought, he stood idly by the door with a frown in his features.

“ _thunk, thunk_.”

Another sound like that and Bro is definitely not sleeping through it, the man sleeps light and wakes up ready to take the eye out of the nearest unsuspecting victim. Before he can question it, Dave grabbed the door handle in one sweaty hand and yanked it open.

Wide eyes stare back at him, Dave barely has a chance to register the fact that a kid his age is on his knees at the door, dark hair a snarled mess, face gaunt and pale, and blood- Oh fuck, that's blood, fucking everywhere, before the guy is laughing softly. He stares up into Dave's shades, smiling wearily,

“I look like _shit_.”

It comes out in a wheezing breath, and suddenly the stranger is slumping forwards. Dave moves quickly, dropping down into a kneel and catching the guy by the hair with his free hand. Wincing at the action, he lifts the strangers head, clammy hands struggling to cup his jaw, hand coming up to steady his shoulder and pull him up to face Dave. Lax features and closed eyes meet him.

“Yo,”

Dave whispers urgently,

“Yo man, wake up, are you-?”

Dave shifts his hand from the guys jaw to his neck, fitting into what looks like a loose strangle hold, pressing two fingers over his artery. The guys head rolls forward like a rag doll without Dave's support.

A rapid but steady pulse drums against Dave's fingers, he breathes a relieved sigh.

“So you’re not straight up dead, that's cool, great- great job, congratulations.”

He splutters.

“Ugh, what the fuck. At least you’re not here about Jesus, I’d take sweaty dying guy over the lord and saviour any day.”

Dave moves to pick the guy up by the armpits, but God he’s heavy, and Dave’s running on nothing but junk food and pure repressed panic. He mumbles on through struggling grunts.

“sorry J.C., - _ugh_ but I’m only human, and bleeding dudes are - _uh_ a _hun-_ hundred times cooler when they don’t have - _fuck_ reps at your door.”

Dave manages to wrap his arms around the boy’s waist to lift him off the ground.The guys head lolled against Dave's shoulder, his huge black messenger bag adding to his weight. The guys arms flopping uselessly by his sides like a dead man trying to give Dave a hug.

“This guys got it right, _ugh_ \- doing his own advertising - _fuck_. Would Jesus ever come down from the clouds and bleed on your doorstep?”

He takes a shuddering breath,

“Not a fuckin’ chance, this is what good customer service looks like. Take notes, Big Man.”

He hopes as hard as he can that his Bro is in enough of a drug induced coma that the scraping of this guys muddy boots against the floorboards doesn’t wake him up.

“Mother of fuck you weigh more than a brick shithouse.”

Dave rasped, his throat dry.

He managed to drag the guy to the bathroom without a single creak or shuffle from Bros room.

He props the guy up on the toilet seat, leaning his unsupported head against the wall, muttering quietly to himself.

“You’re damn lucky you passed out face first into the house with the biggest stash of medical supplies in the country.”

He switches on the light and rummages through the cupboards, grabbing a couple rags and a med kit. He leaves them on the counter while he silently lifts off the dudes bag. Then grabs the hem of the unconscious guys baggy torn up sweater. Dave lifts it over his head, guiding his arms through the holes, careful of the oozing gash on the guys right bicep. He lays the sweater in the bathtub, and turns to face the guy on the toilet.

“Oh.”

His voice sounded small.

The guy is riddled with scars. Some of them are more faded than others, but they’re clear. They range from massive pale fissures that contrast his olive skin, to paper cut sized dashes that mark his flesh. They run up his shoulders and down the lightly toned muscles of his chest. Dave's eyes fall to the ones scattered down his arms, and Dave sucks in a breath.

Dave knows those scars. They’re the kind of scars you get from squeezing your eyes shut, lifting your arms, knowing that this is gonna hurt, and there's nothing you can do but protect what parts of yourself you can. Knowing that this is hopeless, but if you play your cards right you might survive. Defensive scars. He’s seen them a thousand times. He has them too.

Dave shakes the thoughts from his head, reaching for the rag by the sink.

Steadying him with a hand on his shoulder, Dave presses the fresh rag to the sluggishly bleeding gash, laying him palm flat on top of it and pushing his hand against the wound. Dave holds it there, he has no way of checking the time, so he counts to sixty under his breath. He tries to keep memories from distracting him, but they ebb at his mind.

Flashes of Dave, young, too young, maybe seven, eight, or nine. Tears spilling down his face, holding gauze to a deep cut on his side.

Dave shook his head, _not now_.

Another count of sixty, another, another, and another. He dropped the cloth in the sink and grabbed the next.

He doused the second rag in disinfectant, then wiped the area around the wound, soaking up the blood that had been smeared by clothing. He dabbed it into the wound, the guy let out a barely audible whimper. Dave grimaced sympathetically.

He lifted the rag, tossing it on the counter. He wrapped the wound snugly with a bandage.

“Dr.Strider to the fuckin’ rescue.”

He picked up the disinfectant covered rag again, flipping it to an only partially blood soaked section, and dabbed at the scrapes on the guys knees, wincing as the dude lets out a sharp hiss.

“Damn,”

Dave muttered, raising his eyebrows,

“fucked up a fresh pair of Levis? Fuckin' inexcusable. Pretty sure that's a felony.”

He deadpans. He wiped the rocks and dirt from each of the cuts. Once the bleeding had subsided, he grabbed some large band-aids and covers the scrapes, pushing the corners under the torn jeans, pressing the edges down gently. He stands.

“God this is gonna be a lotta work ain’t it.”

He sighs. 

He let his eyes travel over the guy who stumbled into his house half dead just half an hour ago. Over his matted hair, his, relaxed expression, the curves of a scarred, toned, body.

Dave's hand reached for the last clean rag, he dampens it in the sink and runs it over the sweat slick skin of his face, his neck, over his shoulders, broader than Dave's, bending down to reach his chest, his stomach.

Dave brings a hand to his face, lifting it under the fluorescent lights of the bathroom, and he mutters something he’d deny if someone ever confronted him, because the words that leave his lips make up perhaps the most comforting sentence ever spoken in the Strider house. He speaks so softly, its barely audible,

“You’re gonna be okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yo im havin a good time writin this


	3. Unarmed Entertainer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wanted to post this yesterday but had a panic attack for an hour instead. 
> 
> TW: Mention of gore, sexual humour

The world was dark and felt focused on a dull pain that drummed at his arm in a throbbing beat that matched his heart.

His eyes opened, memories of blood, of shouting, a blade sinking into his flesh and tearing away in a streak of red crashed through his mind. He sat bolt upright, his hands moved on instinct, groping for a strap across his chest that was no longer there. Panic flooded him, seizing at his throat. He was defenceless, he should never be defenceless. His breaths came harsh and ragged as he scrambled backward until his head knocked against something solid. It was then he registered the absurdity of his situation.

He needed to regain control, he made his breaths come in long and steady, and forced them out through his lips.

He had woken up lying down. Karkat almost never lay down, he’d been told the way he slept was frightening, but he’d rather sleep abnormally than limit himself to lying on the ground.

His sweater constricted around his shoulders uncomfortably. The room was tiny, barely big enough to house him while he slept. Jeans and sweaters had been shoved into overflowing drawers that surrounded him, and a section of the wall was dedicated to various red and white shirts on hangers. Some kind of closet?

As his eyebrows pulled into a look of confusion he felt a gentle pressure clinging to his forehead. He reached up to scratch at it, and square slip of paper fluttered to the ground. He reached for it, careful of his injury.

A note scrawled in red ink:

_sup loser_

_you tried to die at my door at 2am so i worked my magic and you fuckin lived_

_just dave being the coolest kid on the block again you know how it is_

_anyway your shit is safe_

_i tossed your sweater in the shower and gave you one of mine_

_you better be humbled to walk around in that sweet merch my guy_

_i dont just hand that shit out_

_you wont see that at target_

_shits exclusive_

_sold only to the finest of unconscious homeless people_

This was the longest most convoluted note Karkat had ever read. He flipped it over.

_anyway try not to lose your shit too hard_

_\- strider out_

Karkat looked down. He was stuffed into a snug fitting white hoodie with a child’s drawing on the front. Two guys in onesies drawn with jutting limbs, mouths that melted off their faces and words around them saying “were making this hapen” in a stupid bubbly font.

He was still defenceless. He stood, crumpling the note in a fist and bursting through the closet door.

“WHAT THE _FUCK_ ”

He bellowed, his voice scratchy and his throat aching.

In a swift movement, the flash of a blade was arching toward his stomach. He leapt backward into the closet, his reflex quicker than his brain could process.

Eyes hidden behind dark shades bore down on him. Karkat snarled back at a stoic face with a scattering of freckles and jagged scars, hair a shock of bleached blond that fell over to one side, choppy and styled. He wore a white and red long sleeve shirt that had a strange pixelated symbol with simple black jeans. What drew Karkats attention was gleaming longsword in his grip.

“Holy fuck man,”

The boy spoke in a strange alien drawl,

“didn’t I tell you not to lose your shit? gotta keep a good eye on that shit. Cant let it get away like a snotty kid running wild in Disneyland. Don’t want it to end up supervised by an underpaid collage student in a massive shirtless rat suit.”

Karkat glared back, hunching over in an attempt to use posturing to look more deadly than he was without his weapons.

“Who the fuck are you.”

He growled,

“Where the fuck is my bag? And why do you talk like a fucking ass licking brainless sack of dog shit?”

“Well first off, the names Dave, always great to meet a fan, and second,”

He had the nerve to mock a look of offence, his face turning down into a pout.

“No need to kink shame me bro, where I put my tongue relative to where other people put their asses is none of your concern.”

His mouth shifted into an infuriating smirk.

“Unless you’re int-“

“OKAY shut the fuck up,”

Karkat interrupted,

“Ive heard you speak enough for this miserable fucking lifetime. Just hand over my fucking bag before I tear your throat out of your pathetically twig shaped depressing excuse for a body.”

Dave raised his hands in surrender, which didn’t really have the same effect when he still held a white knuckle grip on his sword.

“Chill bro, chill, its all cool, I wasn’t gonna keep it from you like some sort of malicious homeless people-robbing sadist. I might be a badass motherfucker with some sick sword skills but I’m not out to get you.”

“Im not fucking homeless, and if I was I wouldn’t resort to bunking with a sword humping stick legged blabbering moron that somehow convinced himself waving an overgrown butterknife around and wearing shades indoors makes him a ‘badass motherfucker’ and not just an obnoxious douchebag with a freakish knife fetish.”

“Kay man I get it, you have a lot of artful and graphic insults, I have a sword. This schtick is getting old faster than that video of that cat playing the keyboard. Actually thats a lie I could watch that little guy go for hours, playing Chopsticks with chopsticks? Fucking brilliant. Spectacular. Jaw dropping. Inspirational.”

“Jesus fucking Christ just get me my goddamn fucking bag you- you fucking-“

Karkat raked a hand through his hair, desperation seeped into his voice,

“God you’re just going to keep going forever, aren’t you? Every time i speak it just invites another spew of nonsensical bullshit, this is fucking hopeless isn’t it?”

Dave smiled, with both sides of his face and everything,

“Glad you’re finally getting the memo dude, you’re in la casa de Strider now, this is my domain, theres not a chance you can out-bullshit me bro, I’m the right hand man to the king of the castle, and bullshit is this kingdoms way of life.”

Karkat groaned. The guy had the fucking nerve to give an amused chuckle,

“Now that you’re all up to speed lets get you that bag you’ve been raving about.”

“Oh thank fucking Jesus.”

The moron lead Karkat to the other side of the room, giving him time to glance around, taking in the abundance of machines and decorations that made no fucking sense at all.

“What is this room?”

Karkat asked, suddenly genuinely curious as to what this kid had to say.

“What?”

He shrugged as he tossed Karkat his messenger bag.

“Its my room. What else would it be?”

Karkat caught the bag with ease, thankful to finally have the familiar weight of its strap across his chest.

He gestured around at the strange devices, a vertical black plane sitting on a desk, a tangle of black rope on the ground, and a machine made of different metal circles and dials.

“I mean whats all this insane bullshit? And what you you mean ‘your room’? You own a room?”

Daves head tilted, his face bent in confusion,

“Uh, sort of? I guess? Its where all my shit goes, its where I go, so it’s my room.”

He watches carefully as Karkat reaches into his bag.

“What are you a fuckin’ alien from a planet where electronics don’t exist? Its just a computer, wires, my sick as all hell turntables, I don’t get what the genuine confusion’s about.”

Karkat stopped listening as soon as Dave started listing off a bunch of words that sounded distantly familiar. Maybe he’d read about them? It didn’t matter, all that mattered was the fact that he was safe now.

He pulled a pair of identical curved sickles from his bag, their blades arching in deadly sharp crescents, Karkat gripped the handles. Relief settled in his tense muscles.

As long as he held these he was safe. Nothing could touch him.

The guys eyebrows rose high enough to be seen above his shades.

“Holy fuck.”

Karkat didn’t look away from his sickles. Letting memories of warm smiles and proud eyes wash over him.

“Im leaving.”

He turned toward the door.

“Hold it, man.”

The guy spoke, getting Karkats attention,

“Are you really gonna be all that safe out there? Not that I’m doubting your insane sickle wielding abilities, I’m sure you’re very badass with your corn killers and you’re very intimidating or whatever,”

Dave rolled his hand in the air dismissively,

“but dude, that shit with your arm? I know a serrated knife wound when i see one. I know for a fact you don’t get those from a tumble down the stairs. If someones after you, are you really gonna walk down the street waving your busted up limb around like ‘yo fresh meat over here’ seems a little fucking stupid from where I’m sitting.”

Karkat turned to scoff at him,

“And why the fuck are you suddenly so invested in the wellbeing of the guy you stuffed in a closet overnight?”

The idiot smiled, his freckled face relaxing,

“You’re the best entertainment I’ve got all month, I’m not letting you die after only five minutes of our witty back n forth.“

Karkat considered it, sighing heavily. Setting all that ‘entertainment’ bullshit aside, he really couldn’t risk going back with a busted up arm. He wasn’t sure if he _wanted_ to go back. Not yet at least.

“Fine,”

He resigned himself,

“ill sleep in your closet until my arm heals up, but if you get too annoying I’ll fucking throttle you.”

“You’re right, we’ve gotta keep this homoerotic train going, maybe share a bed, I can take you up on that ass licking thing you were so in to. Or if you’re not up for that we can cry at a sunset, hold hands and get all sentimental up in this bitch.”

Karkat returned his sickles to his bag, letting it fall shut.

“I already fucking regret this.”

Dave smiled,

“You’re just too easy, man.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the next chapter will be a little high stakes so i think this chill one about two morons bickering is a pretty good buffer.


	4. Clueless and Wary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to build these characters up a bit before the plot hits, i think these scenes with subtle background information is a good way to do that. So its domestic time!! 
> 
> TW: Weapons

Karkat had a lot of questions, and he was never afraid to ask them. After Karkat had showered and pulled on his clean ripped up sweater, they sat in Daves room, idly talking, annoying each other while Dave worked on his ridiculous number of hobbies until the afternoon rolled around.

Just about everything in Daves room was confusing and new. It was as if Karkat quite literally lived under a rock his entire life. It didnt take Dave long to realize he could say just about anything and Karkat believed him almost instantaneously.

So when Karkat said,

“You never explained why your voice sounds like it’s coming through a horses ass.”

Dave decided to have a little fun.

“Well thats an intense story,”

He said in all seriousness,

“are you ready? Are you strapped in? got comfortable? Sat your ass down all nice n cozy?”

Dave sat down in his desk chair, spinning it to face where Karkat sat on the end of his bed.

Karkat gave him a look that he was beginning to recognize as the ‘ _get to the fucking point_ ’ glare.

“It all started on my sixth birthday, when I was walking to the castle in the middle of town. When suddenly,”

He paused for dramatic effect, he couldn’t help the smile that played at his lips while Karkat ate this bullshit up like a starry eyed child,

“I tripped on a giraffes wing-“

_Reel it back Dave, keep it believable._

“and landed face-first into the pavement.”

Through their little quips back and forth throughout the day, Dave learned that Karkat knew nothing about the local area, the state, or even the country. Karkat knew nothing of animals you wouldn’t see in a house or a forest. He was pretty sure if he told Karkat about the existence of monkeys or god forbid lions his poor little brain would shatter with the impact of such advanced knowledge.

“What the fucks a giraffe? Is it like a bird?”

Dave wrangled his smile into a smirk,

“Yes.”

Damn that smile wanted centre stage,

“Anyway, I got myself off the ground, but then this crackhead wearing a cape and nothing else burst out of a teleportation pod screaming, he grabbed me by the neck and shoved a bunch of silk down my throat, the most costly, velvety, soft as a newborns ass kinda silk there is. And that, my friend, is how I got my voice this smooth and sexy.”

Karkat groaned in annoyance.

“Every time you speak I fight the urge to force a brick down your neck so Im never unjustly subjected to your never ending bullshit again.”

His hands flew in violently outwards, bringing prominence to each point while he spoke,

“Than maybe I’ll be able to exist in peace for a goddamn second without wanting to split my fucking head in half and tear out whichever part interprets language.”

“Setting aside your disrespect toward my traumatic giraffe related permanently-vocal-chord-damaging incident,”

Karkat rolled his eyes, Dave smirked,

“Im impressed. Thats the longest you’ve listened to one of my tales before throwing a Thesaurus sponsored Shit Fit all day.”

He leaned forward, resting his head in his hand, letting an ironically pretentious tone take to his voice.

“ _Prey tell_ , dearestK-dog, were you actually intrigued by my vocal history?”

“Well obviously I was.”

He grumbled, blatantly ignoring the shitty nickname,

“Ive never heard someone talk like that, its freakish. Of course I want to know if it’s some sort of horrible affliction so I don’t have to contract it too.”

“Nah dude, people from different places just talk different.”

Karkat looked at the ground, a little lost in thought,

“I guess that makes sense.”

A creak from the hallway, Dave froze.

“Shut the fuck up dude.”

His voice less than a whisper.

Daves eyes locked on his bedroom door, he wrapped a hand around the hilt of a sword laying under his desk, glancing over to Karkat briefly before binding his gaze to the door again. Karkat held both sickles in hand, drawn quickly from his bag, his shoulders square and his mouth pressed into a snarl.

The sound of the door at the opposite end of the hallway clicked shut, and Daves muscles relaxed by a fraction.

Karkat was still glaring defensively when Dave stood, his face devoid of of expression,

“Come on,”

He said flatly,

“Follow me, and try not to be too lame. Only cool kids in _la casa de Strider_ , remember?”

Dave lead Karkat to the kitchen, both of them clutching their weapons.

He froze in front of the fridge, he could hear his heart beating in his ears. He kept his face empty.

A note was pinned to the fridge.

“Dave?”

Karkat whispered, lifting his sickles,

“The fucks wrong now?”

Dave grabbed the note, tearing it free from the throwing star it was pinned under. In black typed letters,

_bro._

_the stores. don’t. sell. ramen._

_devastating._

Dave let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.

“It’s all chill up in here man.”

In thick red Sharpie, Bro had written

“LAME FRIGE”

Across the door in a messy scrawl that vaguely resembled the comic sans font.

“Chiller than the fuckin arctic, were gettin ice cold, imma introduce you to those chill as fuck penguins you’ve probably never heard of. Trust me bro, they’re worth this frigid atmosphere we’ve got goin.”

“I didn’t think it was possible for your rambling to graduate from terrible to ear gratingly insufferable.”

Dave opened the fridge, jumping three feet back from it immediately, but nothing happened.

“The fresh hell am I supposed to do with this shit.”

The fridge was full of raw meat, vegetables, and uncooked pasta that definitely didn’t belong there. Orange soda was stuffed in every place that didn’t hold some sort of ingredient to a meal Dave would never be able to cook.

“You make food with it, obviously.”

Karkat explained as if Dave was the uneducated one.

“You’re telling me you cant cook?”

He scoffed,

“Step aside, Strider.”

Karkat had taken a while to learn that was Daves last name, and even longer to understand _why_ he had a last name. When he told Karkat thats how everyones names worked he looked at Dave as if he’d just solved the question that’d been bothering him his entire life. Dave saved that to the massive ‘ _Weird Karkat Things_ ’ folder in his head.

Karkat told Dave he didn’t have a last name, and he’d never met anyone with one. He’d only known Karkat for a day, and that folder grew every other time Karkat opened his mouth.

Dave prepared himself to free an extra space in that folder to fit the fact that Karkat can apparently cook.

Dave and Bro had only moved in recently, the collection of exceptionally ironic items strewn about this kitchen was lacking compared to their old apartment. Hell, most of the puppets and swords were still sitting in boxes in Bro’s room.

That didn’t stop Karkat from complaining about the state of the kitchen every five seconds. Dave was pretty sure nothing could stand between Karkat and his complaining.

Dave hopped up onto the counter next to the stovetop, taking a seat and barely listening while Karkat groaned about his grievances.

“Why the fuck are there firecrackers?”

Karkat had a habit of running his hands through the shorter curls on the back of his head, gripping them in one hand, and leaving his arm to rest there.

“Fucking- are these puppets? In the cupboard? Why are they so-? Nevermind I don’t want to know.”

Karkat spoke loudly, his shoulders were almost always tense and squared, and he only put his sickles away in his bag when he was in Daves room or busy with his hands. The bag stayed on at all times.

“More fucking puppets? This is a fucking nightmare.”

When Karkat got to work he looked like a different person.

His permeant mask of boiling anger faded, his shoulders never lost their tension, but as he severed bits of fat from meat, his demeanour seemed to take up less space. Nothing bold or harsh was left. Just a sort of serenity Dave felt strange to witness. Karkat prepared something Dave had never seen before on autopilot. His movements were calm and precise. His eyes were full of a distant fondness that was hard to recognize. It wasn’t long before a smell that left Daves mouth watering filled the air.

Karkat filled two paper plates he’d found with a combination of vegetables and cooked chicken in a stew-like sauce made of who knows what.

“Does your insane definitely not-a-father-figure guy need food or do we not care?”

Dave smirked,

“We don’t care.”

They cleaned up the kitchen, leaving no trace that they’d been there. They ate in Daves room. Karkat didn’t ask why, he just blurted out everything that annoyed him instead. Dave was getting used to that. Getting used to having a constant stream of bullshit surrounding him.

When they had to sleep, Dave changed into boxers and a lose fitting sweater, burrowing into his covers, and Karkat.

He did something Dave had never seen another human being do in his life. Karkat sat on the floor, fully clothed, head resting against the closet door. Then he let his eyelids fall, not fall shut, just fall a millimetre or two. Dave watched as Karkats breathing evened out, and he slept. Just like that. Eyes open, sitting up straight. Dave stared, a moment or two passed before he decided that this was something he didn’t need to question. He owed Karkat that, after he let so many obvious questions go unanswered. Dave turned over in his bed, feeling cold as ever, missing the Texas heat as he did every night in this house, but he didn’t miss that empty feeling. He felt full. He felt good, for the first time in a long time.

He wasn’t lonely anymore, but he’d never admit that he ever was, so lets keep that between us.

He slept without a nightmare or a hitch. He was happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ive been writing out random scenes for future chapters as i flesh em out in my head, we've got a little more domesticity coming up before it gets a bit heavy.


	5. Claws in Safety

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So its been a few days, Ive returned after several mental breakdowns
> 
> There will be indicators like this:  
> -TRIGGER WARNING STARTS/ENDS HERE-  
> for a part referencing an involuntary near death involving a noose.
> 
> TW: Panic attack, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD), mentions of vomiting, suicide imagery, noose, hanging, child abuse, violence, referenced child abuse.
> 
> READ TWs STAY SAFE

Daves heart was in his throat. He stood in the doorway of the bathroom, looking down at Karkat curled up on the floor. His bag sitting next to him on the cold tile.

Dave doesn’t know if he should talk, if he should touch him, or if that would make this worse, so he stands, knees locked, feet welded in place.

Daves voice is flat, tainted with alarm undetectable to anyone who doesn’t know his intricate tells.

“Can I touch you?”

Karkat has only been in this house for two weeks, but he’s always paying attention, he always knows when Dave is panicking.

“ _NO_.”

He cries, Dave fought the urge to cringe at the sight of Karkats nails leaving swollen trails of red against the dark skin of his throat.

“No, no don’t fucking- I-“

Karkat huffs out shuddering breaths.

“I cant, I cant fucking-“

His sentences stop and start without warning, barely scraping together. His breathing switches from shallow and gasping to nonexistent, he rakes his nails across his neck desperately as if he could claw it open and draw air in that way.

Dave stands back, he doesn’t know what to do. Part of him hopes his presence is enough to help, like he can make this easier just by being there for the aftermath of whatever this is. The rest of him thinks he’s being a fucking idiot.

“I-“

Karkat stutters,

“I- fuck-“

Dave steps forward from where he’d been idling in the doorway, he lets out a whispered,

“You- Shit- you don’t have to talk bro, its cool, its all cool.”

Karkat gasps in a shuddering breath, tears falling freely down his face, he curls in on himself, his face burrowing into his knees, and his hands clutching at his head like he could make this stop if he yanked on his hair hard enough.

Dave doesn’t know how long he’s been standing there watching this, but he isn’t about to leave, fear and concern keep him bolted in place.

Karkats body shakes with silent sobs, he’s muttering something inaudible to himself. Some phrase on repeat that Dave cant hear.

Karkat lifts his head from where it was buried inhis knees, his eyes are wide, he rasps out,

“ _She’s not here,_ ”

Daves eyes, hidden behind his shades, are full of anxiety and confusion. Karkat continues without pause,

“she’s not here, she’s not here, you’re fucking fine, she’s not here, they aren’t- none of them are.”

Karkats breathing softly stuttered out. His eyes were pressed shut, drawing in air, holding it, and blowing it out from his mouth. He repeated it, in, hold, out, in, hold, out. After several painful moments passed, he opened his eyes again.

Karkats hairline was dripping with sweat, his hands were shaking. Dave reached for a cloth, running it under the cool tap water. He wrung it out a bit over the sink. Kneeling next to Karkat, he held out the cold rag. Karkat took it in a shaking hand, pressing it to his forehead.

“Sorry.”

Karkat whispered,

“Im, uh, it’s fine.”

“Can I touch you?”

Dave asked again.

“Uh, sure?”

He sat down on his knees. Then he wrapped his arms around his friend, pulling Karkat in.Dave couldn’t remember being hugged before, but people did it in movies all the time, it seemed to help. He ignored the strange shock the contact sent through him. The feeling that this was what he was missing when he spent nights rolling in bed, pulling covers around himself in in spite of the smoldering Texas heat. The full body itch he got under his skin on days when he felt unbearably alone. None of that was important right now.

Karkats muscles tensed before he relaxed into Daves arms, bringing his own up to reciprocate, wrapping around Daves waist steadily. The cloth ended up on the ground next to them.

Dave poured everything he didn’t know how to voice into the hug, burying his face in Karkats dark mess of hair, breathing in the smell of Daves borrowed shampoo.

He’d never been this close to him, and Karkat clearly didn’t know what to make of it. He kept fidgeting with the back of Daves shirt.

Dave couldnt put words to how fucking scared he’d been, to how much he just wanted to make it all better, how quickly he sank into helplessness, and how grateful he was that Karkat was fucking breathing again.

His face was expressionless as ever, but his hands shook as he clutched the back of Karkats sweater to steady them.

“Im okay.”

Karkats voice was muffled by Daves chest.

“ _God_ ,”

Dave muttered,

“You fucking better be Jesus Christ, that was-“

He was at a loss for words, instead he just gripped Karkat tighter, pulling him almost painfully close.

“ _fuck_.”

Karkat snorted in a weak muffled laugh.

They sat together until Dave regained his composure. He backed away from Karkats warmth.

“Thanks.”

Karkat spoke, his hands fidgeting and his mouth pulled into a thin grateful smile.

Dave just stared,

“So do you want to tell me what the ever loving fuck that was? Because that went a little to far past normal Karkat levels of weird for me to let it slide.”

Karkat grimaced,

“Can I uh, I promise, I’ll tell you. but just, I mean, not right now?”

He shifted awkwardly,

“Please?”

Daves never seen Karkat act like this, all quiet, nervous, and fidgeting. Its seemed so out of place. He ignored it.

Pushing himself to his feet, he held out a hand for Karkat to take.

“Okay, okay, sounds good. Lets just get you off the floor before you have to be scraped off it like I’m a janitor losing the will to live. I just spent an hour cleaning shit off the bathroom ceiling and you’re some week old gum on a shitty school desk.”

Karkat scrunched up his face, grabbing his bag and reaching out to take Daves hand to haul himself up,

“Why do you always have to find the worst ways to say normal things.”

Karkats palm fit into his in a way that calmed his frayed nerves, he pulled it back as soon as Karkat stood, tucking it into the pocket of his jeans,

“Shut the fuck up man. I barely get payed minimum wage doing the nastiest job in the world, I can say whatever the fuck I want as far as I’m concerned.”

Karkat rolled his eyes. Dave lead the way to his room. Bro had been gone for a few days now, but he was still dead silent as he moved through the hallway.

Karkat was careful of the wires on the floor as he picked his way over to sit in his spot at the end of Daves bed and slip his bag over his shoulder.

Dave settled into the chair in front of his computer,

“Alright man, ya know I love your running commentary on your hatred for the world just as much as the next guy,”

Dave said, hitting the spacebar to wake up the device.

“but I’ve been ignoring the fact that online school exists on this mortal plane for weeks, got a metric fuckton of shit to do. Id very much appreciate you hitting mute on your hilarious and inappropriately intense dialogue for a hot sec.”

“School?”

Karkat said, sounding confused,

“You do school? I might not be an expert on ridiculous social activities, butdont you have to go to a separate building for that kind of thing?”

Dave spun his chair to face Karkat, raising an eyebrow,

“So on top of being completely clueless about anything created after the year nine when man invented the wheel, you’ve never even seen a school? What, were you homeschooled in a cave like some kind of socially versatile bear? I’d think you’d have to warn a guy before he bros it up with a bear. If a bear bark once for yes and twice for no.”

“ _No!_ ”

He crossed his arms,

“I wasn’t homeschooled, Ive never been schooled! And if either one of us is getting compared to a stupid animal, I’d personally have my money on the shit-for-brains knife-swinging puppet-hoarding fuckwit.”

“Wait, hold up, go back, I’m ignoring the shady puppet comment for now cuz thats fuckin’ blasphemy. So can you read and write? Can you do math and shit?”

“Of course I can fucking read! I-“

Karkat stuttered a little, his face flushing red. That was- It made something warm take over in Daves chest. Karkat kept rambling,

“Ive never really uh, I haven’t really ever had to write anything. But I’m not fucking stupid, jackass,”

Karkat uncrossed his arms, tugging at his sweater sleeves,

“I mean, Ive tried it before but I uh, I was fucking shit. With math? I dont know, of course I can do basic shit, I’m not a toddler, but, no, not really.”

“Damn.”

Dave was a little awestruck, he knew enough to not push Karkat to talk about his childhood, it always got him a glare and a lengthy insult, but this was weirder than anything else he’d heard about wherever Karkat grew up. Before now it was mostly stories about wandering in the forest and messing around in a kitchen.

“But you can read?”

Karkat smiled a little,

“Someone taught me,”

Dave didn’t want to push, but Karkat never spoke this much about himself, and Dave was beyond curious. He was perfectly capable of restraint, but with Karkat it was different. He was desperate to know more.

“Who? The worker guy from the kitchens? The one that taught you to cook or whatever?“

Karkats smile was tinged with sadness, wavering slightly, his dark eyebrows pulled together,

“No, uh. She was some new kid, older than everyone else. She was smart, really smart. She-“

Karkats voice cracked, he cleared his throat and continued,

“She brought books with her, and she’d read through them with me. She loved the fantasy ones, the sappy romantic ones. Her name was uh- it was Kanaya.”

Dave opened his mouth to offer something lighthearted to get rid of that achingly vulnerable expression on Karkats face, but he came up with nothing, and Karkat kept going.

“She was with us for years, but then he, uh one of the guys, he was acting like a fucking creep, and-“

Karkat pressed his eyes shut,

“we thought it’d be fine, I was so _fucking sure_ it was just one of his normal breaks, he was fine, but he got so, so fucking angry. Telling us to kneel, and she fucking-“

Karkat brought his knees up to his chest, eyes losing focus,

“I just kept living. Why the fuck did I fucking live? She was faster, smarter, braver, way better than I’ll ever fucking be, and _I_ lived.”

Tears were falling silently now, getting sopped up with Karkats sleeve.

“Shit,”

Dave raked a hand through his hair,

“I uh.”

He stood, walking over to Karkats spot, opening his arms awkwardly in an invitation. Karkat looked him over through teary eyes. He stood hesitantly and stepped forward, tucking himself into Daves shoulder. Daves arms pulled him in and held him there.

He was beginning to realize he was way better at this, at physical comfort than trying to talk about any of this stuff. Having Karkat resting against him just made him feel like he was doing something right.

“Sorry, I’m being fucking pathetic today.”

Dave didn’t like the sound of that, he frowned,

“Its all chill,”

He reassured,

“sometimes you just gotta get your devastating sorrow on all up on your bros, I get it.”

Karkat snorted,

“I hate it when you do that.”

Dave furrowed his eyebrows in confusion,

“Do what?”

“Speak.”

Dave chuckled, something inexplicable filling him with a lighter feeling.

“Hey, you wanna make something to eat with me? I could put off my bullshit schoolwork for another day. School can suck my huge dick, I dont care. And by that of course I mean I sit there and run my mouth while you do all the work.”

Karkat pulled back from the hug, looking up at Dave,

“Lord knows what a fucking disaster it would be if I let _Dave Strider_ touch a skillet. If you want to avoid burning down this house, letting me do the work that requires more than one braincell is your best bet.”

They left Daves room, walking down the halls to the kitchen,Karkat once again complaining about the puppets on the way.

Dave maintained that the puppets were sick as fuck, and there would be no further debate on the topic.

While Karkat dropped his bag on the counter and started work in the kitchen, Dave moved into the adjacent Living room and collapsed in a heap onto the couch.

He sat sideways on it, his head resting against the top of the armrest. He scrolled through Netflix looking for something stupid to make fun of. He eventually settled on some ridiculous movie about pent up horny adults badly fumbling their way through romantic interactions. Dave mocked every character under his breath, giving the movie a constant and much needed sarcastic commentary.

On screen, a tall skinny brunet was complaining about one of her most recent romantic fuckups, Dave was barely paying attention, but her BFF was trying to help her plot her revenge.

“Omg gurl he did not. You just gotta go out there and slash his tires, snap off his balls,”

Dave muttered, letting a smirk show his amusement with himself.

“Or fuck that, lets make him jealous, fuck his mom.”

He turned his head and leaned up to glance over at Karkat over the back of the couch, he was waiting for something on the stove to fry.

Dave raised his eyebrows when he noticed how entranced Karkat was with the movie. He was leaning over, forearms resting on the counter to get a better view of the screen. Karkat stared at it, furrowing his brow when the girl described how she was treated, and chuckling softly at the jokes her BFF made. He was completely invested.

“Seriously?”

Dave joked,

“Rom-coms? I never would have guessed. I guess if you’re that pent up any action is good action if you know what I mean.”

Karkat rolled his eyes,

“Fuck off, at least I can appreciate the intricacies of romance without spewing rancid garbage from my mouth every six seconds.”

“Oh my god you’re actually defending it. You genuinely get off on this dont you? Im floored. Astonished. I never thought I’d see the day my dearest homie turns his back on the realm of sane human beings, but alas, here we are. You’ve joined the ranks of the Nick Cage enthusiasts and people who genuinely enjoyed _Love Actually_ , and oh boy they’re promoting you to Commander Karkat, leader of the mildly brain damaged.”

“Fuck right the fuck off with that endless stream of fucking meaningless bullshit you insist on shitting out Strider.”

Karkat practically growled, making what Dave has begun to recognize as a kind of aggressive grin, bearing his gritted teeth,

“You’re gonna make me tear out my fucking eardrums and shove them down your windpipe until you cant let out another dumbfuck sentence.”

Dave wanted to continue, but those gritted teeth and his aggressive posture made him hesitate a second too long.

Karkat crosses his arms,

“What I enjoy is my business, and I find romance complex and intriguing, which I’m sure your stupid neanderthal brain can barely fucking comprehend.”

Dave raises his arms in surrender,

“Damn, alright, I get it, you cant handle the truth.”

Now Dave was just being annoying on purpose, giving an obnoxious smirk.

Karkat opened his mouth to retort, but instead he turned, tending to whatever he was making, grumbling to himself as he made up two plates of whatever vegetable and meat combination he’d fixed today.

“You’re so fucking obnoxious.”

“ _Nah_.”

Karkat shoved the plate and utensils into Daves lap grumpily,

“You’re lucky I dont let you fucking starve, twig boy.”

Dave knew being malnourished as a kid had messed with how he grew, he was a little bonier and stretched out than he should be. His ribs showed through his shirt sometimes. He shook those thoughts aside.

“Well thanks for taking pity on me Big Kat.”

Karkat scrunched up his face,

“Ugh, never say that again.”

They watched the movie and ate in relative silence, apart from a few harmless jabs and insults thrown back and forth.

Once the movie had ended, the room fell quiet, Dave flicked through the listed movies, searching for a romcom that he could enjoy mocking while Karkat could just plain old enjoy it.

Something bothered him though, he was still curious, but mostly worried. The feeling had only resurfaced more and more as he’d ignored it.

“So,”

He broke the silence,

“Its totally cool if you’re not down, but do you wanna tell me what that thing in the bathroom was about?”

Karkat sighed, long and exhausted sounding. There was a pause before he answered,

“Okay.”

He said,

“I dont really like thinking about it, or uh, talking about it. Well I never really have, but sometimes it comes back to me and I just sort of? I dont know. Lose it?”

Dave stopped searching for movies, dropping the remote to the table,

“Well if you think you’re gonna freak out you dont have to tell me, I just want to know, ya know, in case it can help me figure out how to help? Or at least not say something stupid and make it worse.”

Karkat shrugged,

“I dont know, maybe telling someone will help or something, it’s not like I’ve ever tried it.”

He shifted in his seat, pulling his legs up onto the couch,

“So, I well, I was, I dont know, eleven? Maybe? So around five years ago.”

He waved his hand dismissively,

“Back when we used to have these big family meals together. There were a lot more of us back then. Ten, I think, all of us lived in this house, and uh. There wasn’t a lot of food to go around. One of the girls, her name was Vriska, she was alive last time I saw her.”

He said that as if it was some sort of achievement, Dave didn’t want to think about what that meant.

“She had this whole pirate thing she was into. She liked to steal everything, but she also loved to make my life fucking miserable.”

Karkat grumbled the last part, frowning and glaring into the coffee table,

“She stole my food at every meal, she said she deserved it more, and no one ever noticed. I was really young, and really fucking stupid. When I was starving I knew I needed to get food somewhere. So one time when some of us were brought out to uh, _work_ ,”

He said ‘ _work_ ’ as if the word were tainted, like he was disgusted to give it that name,

“I stole a man’s wallet while he was talking to Terezi. She was one of the other kids there. She saw me, and I didn’t think, I mean I thought it was fine. I ran away to buy food from a shop and came back home with the rest of them, but Terezi, she had this kind of, _god I dont even fucking know._ ”

Karkat ran a hand through his hair anxiously, looking to Dave as if he was making sure Dave wasn’t going to stop him or accuse him of lying,

“I thought she was just normal, I mean yeah, she was a little freaky sometimes, but I didn’t know she’d started hanging out with one of the really fucking crazy ones. She told me to meet her in a room no one ever used, I thought she just wanted to hang out or something, but when I got there she stared spewing all this insane bullshit about how I was ‘ _guilty_ ’, and she needed to, to fucking ‘ _make an example_ ’ out of me.”

Karkat was shaking, Dave felt that anxious feeling set in. He put down his plate next to Karkats on the table. Dave held out his arms tentatively. Karkat sifted closer to put himself between his legs. He dropped his head against Daves chest so his back was flush with Daves front, the top of his head beneath Daves chin.

Dave wrapped his arms solidly around Karkats middle. He was getting used to this closeness between them. He really didn’t want to lose it, and if it helped Karkat feel better, it really was perfect.

Karkat took in a deep breath and continued,

**-TRIGGER WARNING STARTS HERE-**

“She made me stand up on a chair, she set up a fucking-“

He took in a shuddering breath,

“She set up a _noose_.”

Daves blood ran cold. He couldn’t see Karkats expression, he wasn’t sure he wanted to,

“You okay?”

He asked, trying to keep the shock from his voice.

Karkat breathed deeply,

“Yeah, it’s, it’s okay. I want to- uh, I want to say it.”

He kept going,

“I’d never seen something like that before, I didn’t know what it was for. I was so _fucking stupid._ ”

He started speaking quickly, like he just wanted to get this part over with,

“She said I was being ‘ _punished for my crimes’_ , she kicked the chair. She was laughing. I couldn’t breathe, I was just fucking, I was fucking helpless. I thought I was fucking gone,”

He slowed down,

“but Kanaya heard the laughing, and she came. She fucking saved me, she pulled me out of it, the rope burned my neck. I threw up and stuff, it was a fucking mess.”

**-TRIGGER WARNING ENDS HERE-**

“Terezi got off scot-free, and after that Kanaya kind of. I dont know. She took me in? She kept me safe. We helped each other. She was the only friend I’ve ever had that actually gave a shit about me.”

Dave nudged him with his chin,

“What about me?”

He asked, anxious to get Karkat out of this. His obvious fear and just how fucking lonely he sounded did painful things to Daves heart that he couldn’t explain.

“What?”

Karkat asked incredulously.

Dave shrugged,

“I give quite a lot of shits. I mean look at me, I’ve completely transformed into a clingy, hug crazed motherfucker over the course of two weeks.”

He tried to push the images of what Karkat told him aside, but Dave was pretty sure Karkat could feel how fearfully quick his heart was beating through his shirt.

“I think thats a pretty good indication of many shits I’ve got available for the giving.”

“Really? I thought you were just like that.”

“I dunno man, I was pretty fist bump exclusive before your sorry ass turned up.”

Karkat snorted,

“Whatever, I think its cool. Ive never really met someone so.. _close_? before?”

“Holy fucking shit. This is breaking news. Johnathan, hold up with the sportscast, Ive got the mic on lockdown. Karkat just admitted I’m sick as fuck.”

Karkat groaned.

“Im here with straight fuckin facts channel seven, you cant take it back bro, you just told me I’m the raddest motherfucker around with your own voice.”

He squeezed Karkat closer when he tried to squirm away. Karkat dropped his head back to Daves chest in defeat, groaning louder in annoyance.

“Theres no getting out of this one dude. You’re in this for the long haul. You think Im the coolest kid on the block and now everyone tuning in for the results of last nights Big Game knows about it. Just imagine, all the deadbeat dads and their lame athletic kids are fucking enlightened now, theres no way out.”

Karkat reached up to playfully backhand him, knocking his shades askew,

“Remind me never to even come close to complimenting you again.”

Dave smiled like a huge fucking dork and he knew it,

“Not a chance, Im taking this ego boost and now I’m hooked, Im gonna be on my knees begging for that sweet Karkat validation 24/7 just you watch me.”

Karkat sat up, rolling his eyes. Dave let him slide out of his grip, feeling a little hollow without the warm body pressed into his. Karkat grabbed the remote and passed it to Dave, returning to his spot on top of him,

“Just pick a fucking movie and shut the fuck up.”

Karkat grumbled, but there was no real bite to it.

“You got it Karkles.”

They lay comfortably against each other. After a while Daves commentary became more nonsensical, and when he turned his neck to check on Karkat. His friend was asleep, snoring softly, and Daves eyebrows raised when he noticed Karkats eyes were completely closed. He let a soft smile play at his lips. He’d never seen Karkat so completely calm.

Even as he slept, he always had his eyes open, his resting face turned blank and intimidating, but now? Dave was so close, and he looked so peaceful.

Dave just kept looking over Karkats face like a creep, but it felt natural with him nestled into Daves arms, so he didn’t look away.

Karkats jaw was slightly misaligned, his lips came together just fine, but his mouth hung a millimeter open constantly. His teeth sat noticeablyhigher than normal on his lower lip, and when the light caught his face at just the right angle, you could see the tiny permanent indents that his pointed canines left behind.

Little things like this were catalogued in Daves brain as if they’d been programmed in there since the start. Like the shallow bags beneath his eyes and the way he relaxed when he was cooking. He couldn’t imagine having never known these little facts. Karkat was just such an embedded part of his life now.

He smiled to himself, his head falling back against the armrest of the couch. He fell unconscious soon enough, with Karkat warm and heavy against him, and the smell of Daves shampoo coming from his soft mass of hair that brushed against his chin.

They stayed together all night, it was the best Dave had slept in as long as he could remember, with the itch in his skin finally soothed. He really didn’t want this to end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be back soon, maybe after a bit of a break, Ive got my finals for the semester due soon.


	6. Close for Comfort

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You might be wonderin what state this is even taking place in.  
> And the answer is idfk but its gonna matter later so i better figure it tf out.
> 
> TW: Violence, child abuse, implied drug use.

Karkat is awake.

His eyes are wide, his breaths leaving shallow and uneven, his jaw tense, teeth clamped together.

He was lying down, which was unusual enough by itself. Had he passed out again? Did someone knock him out? He had no idea, but what scared him most of all:

There was a heartbeat in his ear.

Thundering out a soft and steady rhythm.

Karkats eyes were wide, his hand was already resting on his neck, so he shifted his fingersto press against his artery. The beat he felt under his hand was far too fast, it didn’t match the one he could hear at all. So it wasn’t his.

He shifted, and- _oh_.

Arms were wrapped around his waist. Red sleeves and pale, scarred hands, rough with calluses and flecked with freckles, lay facing down and open against his stomach. Karkat took in a deep breath.

He was safe.

He’d fallen asleep with Dave last night. How could he have forgotten that?

Dave was warm and comforting, pressed against his back, and Karkat was nestled into him. He lifted his head off of Daves chest. He shifted slightly, turning his head to look up at Daves sleeping face.

At this angle Karkat could see under those dark shades that sat crookedly on Daves nose. Long, pale eyelashes resting against a light scattering of freckles. Pink chapped lips hanging open, a bead of drool welling in the corner of his mouth.

Karkat smiled, even in his sleep Dave couldn’t help but look like a huge moron.

He felt a soft warmth, almost an excitement spread through him when he remembered how close they were. Daves arms holding him, Daves body pressed against his, the earth and salt smell of Daves skin around him, Karkats head following with the gentle rise and fall of his chest.

He’d never been this close to someone, it felt safe, it felt like this was where he was supposed to be. It was so warm.

Karkat lifted his hand that had rested on his upper body and moved it to cover one of Dave’s. That warmth came back in another wave and settled into him like it belonged there. Closing his eyes, he let himself relax completely.

Gradually, he shifted his fingers to fit between Daves, spreading them to curve around Daves thinner hand beneath in a lose hold.

That warmth only grew in its intensity. His smile widened by a fraction. He really- he just really liked this.

His eyes still lay shut, he breathed softly, his heart rate had grown steady by now.

He felt the muscles beneath him shift and tighten before they relaxed.

Dave took in a sharp breath,

“ _Kat?”_

He whispered slowly.

Daves hand twitched beneath Karkats.

“ _Oh_.”

He let the sound come out in a breath.

Daves other hand moved, slowly drifting upwards, running over Karkats sternum, pressing gently. Karkat had never felt this contented. Dave’s arm moved over him, holding him tighter.

The breath Karkat let out bordered on a sigh.

“This’s nice.”

Dave slurred in an addled murmur.

Karkat moved, nestling deeper into Daves front.

“You ‘wake?”

Karkat hummed a sound in response. He opened his eyes again, watching Daves hand resume its wandering over his front.

“You good?”

Dave asked, keeping his voice soft, what Dave had called the ‘Southern’ drawl in his syllables was more evident now.

“Yeah. This is-“

Karkat’s voice came out gravelly and gentle.

“It’s good.”

Karkat felt Dave’s face bury into his hair. The soft pressure made his heart swell in his chest. He let air fill his lungs in a deep breath. Dave’s legs shifted to rest against his own. The gentle weight of him satisfied something deep inside him. He didn’t want this to end.

“You hungry?”

Dave mumbled into his hair.

“Yeah.”

Dave’s arms squeezed around him in one last embrace before nudging at Karkat’s hips in a suggestion to stand.

Karkat sat up and swung his feet to the ground. His back felt cold and his stomach felt empty. He stood, grabbing his bag from the table to pull the strap over his head. Dave joined him. They stayed together as they moved to the kitchen, their arms brushing, neither willing to separate from the pacific feeling of closeness.

Eventually, Dave took up his place on the countertop, and Karkat moved to open the fridge.

Over time, the kitchen had become clear, most of the puppets that Dave refused to acknowledge the absurdity of for reasons Karkat could not nor cared to discern, had been shoved to the backs of cabinets or kicked to where the wall met the floor. Stray throwing stars and firecrackers were dropped into drawers or kicked under the oven.

The fridge had been filled with random foods that Karkat used to cook. He really loved cooking. He was glad to finally have a place where he could do it any time he wanted.

Even though a sense of guilt that he harboured in the back of his mind gnawed at him every time he turned the burner on. Grew when he sautéd vegetables. Ached when the smell of meat filled the air.

He shook his head, there was no point dwelling on it right now.

After a few days of offhandedly mulling it over with Dave, they decided Karkat would leave a plate of food for Dave’s ‘Bro’ the elusive motherfucker. Along with it, a typed note in a capitalized grey font, one they knew Bro wouldn’t associate with Dave. It had read,

_KEEP THIS FRIDGE FULL OF ACTUAL FUCKING FOOD AND I’LL KEEP COOKING FOR YOU._

_DEAL?_

Karkat didn’t get why they had to be careful that he wasn’t mistaken for Dave, but that just seemed like another thing to add to the list of things he shouldn’t question. That list grew every other time Dave opened his mouth.

He pulled out some eggs, bacon, and butter, a pretty classic breakfast anyone could make.

Sometimes he worried that if his food wasn’t up to the older Striders standards the ingredients would stop coming. When he voiced this to Dave a few days prior, he was assured that his standards were nonexistent. It was either Karkat’s cooking or ‘Bro’ would be living on Doritos and what Dave called ‘Cokes’ but were just orange soda.

_Just call it soda you fucking nutcase_.

He got a pan set up with food and lay out three plates.

He worked at the bacon with a spatula and kept a close eye on the eggs.

“Do you think it’s weird?”

Dave had this habit of talking as if Karkat could pull the context for his sentences out of his ass.

“What?”

He glanced over his shoulder.

“How uh, how close we get.”

Dave head was turned to the ground, his features expressionless, which could mean anything in Dave’s book, but the tension in his jaw told Karkat he was nervous. Dave continued in a flat tone,

“It’s not like I’ve got any other past bro-lationships to compare it to, the Strider house has a pretty exclusive guest list my dude. You should be honoured. Funny thing is I’m just not all that up to date on weather or not this is some standard homie happenings.”

Karkat turned back to the food, making sure none of it stuck to the pan. He shrugged,

“It’s not like I have anything to compare this to either.”

He admitted,

“All I’ve ever had were siblings, and its not like we were getting all up close and fucking personal unless it was to attack each other like a bunch of idiotic zoo animals.”

Karkat served the first plate, putting it in the fridge, before returning to crack more eggs and toss on some more bacon.

“Does it really matter? I mean were not crossing any crazy lines or breaking any dumbfuck laws.”

He shrugged,

“And face it, were not exactly ’ _standard homies’_ ”

He brought his hands up in mocking air quotes that he made visible to Dave over his shoulders, still gripping the spatula,

“as you put it in your usual braindead way of communicating.”

He nudged at the food in the pan, easing the eggs onto the spatula,

“I dropped on your porch covered in blood and you dragged in my unconscious body in and then tried to stab me with a fucking sword like a fucking psychopath. Not something I’d call a meet cute.”

He filled his and Daves plates, handing one to Dave.

“Unless thats just the Strider way of scraping together your last two braincells to form an insane asylum freak’s version of ‘ _hello_ ’.”

Dave snorted,

“Yeah thats pretty much spot on, you hit the nail on the head with that one. Gave it a concussion and checked it in to the ER like an unreasonably polite mugger,ready to accept the assault charges.”

Dave grabbed some utensils and they made their way back to his room,

“I’m cool with it if you are.”

Karkat nodded, they ate in relative silence. It wasn’t necessarily comfortable, but it wasn’t awkward, and they broke it for a few comments here and there.

Dave finished some of his schoolwork and Karkat drew in an old notebook Dave had given him on one of his first few days here. Karkat would draw something and show it to Dave, who would usually praise it for its ironic value and mock Karkat for his inability to understand what the fuck irony even is. All while complimenting his ‘ _gloriously fucking mortifying art skills_ ’.

Karkat scribbled out drawings of shitty swords and his best efforts at insulting Dave through scribbles that accentuated his scrawny perportions and stupid douchebag shades.

When the day ended, they both changed into comfortable clothes to sleep in. Dave lay in his bed, propping his head up in one hand and facing where Kakat stood.

“So how about you sleep somewhere that isn’t the nasty ass floor?”

Dave suggested,

“Come on man, watching you sit there while I’ve got this hotspot for comfort and relaxation is sad as fuck. Get on up here.”

Karkat rolled his eyes, leaving his bag open by the bed, he crawled into it. His back facing Dave, he pulled the covers up around them both.

He kept his right hand out of the duvet, aware of the short distance between himself and his sickles.

After a few moments, Dave‘s hand moved under the sheets to lay tentatively against Karkat’s side.

Rolling his eyes in the dark with a fond breathy laugh leaving his lips, Katkat grabbed the hand in his left and guided it around himself, letting it tangle loosely with his fingers. Dave shifted closer to follow Karkats demanding lead, his legs intertwining with Katkats,his body curving to hold him close. He sighed into the short hairs at the base of Karkat‘s skull, letting hot breaths ghost his neck.

Karkat shifted backwards, settling into the familiar embrace. Letting sweet affection fill his chest and lull him to sleep.

Karkat jolted awake, before he had a second to process anything he was standing, the cold grip of his sickles in each hand.

The clang of metal on metal rang out, singing in his head, and his sickles were crossed in front of him, blocking the blow of a katana. He looked up.

Pointed shades stared back at him, an expressionless face with a scattering of freckles. Hair jelled into a mess of spikes and tucked under a ball cap. Lanky but muscular limbs, hands gripping the hilt of the Japanese sword with fingerless gloves.

“ _Strider_.”

Karkat growled.

He nodded in greeting,

“Cook.”

He took another swing at Karkats side.

Karkat’s sickle came to meet the blow, he didn’t know what Dave was doing behind him, but he wasn’t about to dodge a strike and put Dave in the line of fire.

He swiped at Strider’s stomach, catching the fabric of his t-shirt and tearing through it. Strider dodged backwards and swung at Karkats head. Karkat ducked low and stepped forward, ramming his head into Strider’s abdomen.

Strider stumbled back in a way that was barely noticeable,

“Can’t say I saw that comin’”

His stupid fucking voice was worse than Daves stupid fucking voice. The accent dripping with arrogance that made Karkats blood _boil_.

Karkat swung for his neck, and Strider’s blade met his in a block using the back of the single edged sword. Landing near the hilt of Karkats sickle.

Strider twisted his katana and Karkat’s sickle was forced out of his hand and onto the ground.

He had a split second to think:

_he thinks I’ll go for the sickle_

before he clenched his hand into a fist and slammed it into Strider’s face. In close quarters with the man, he had to hit the side of his head, the force of it knocked the pointed shades to the ground.

Karkat faltered for a second, his heart thrumming in his ears.

The pupils that stared down at him were blown wide, burning rings of orange barely visible around the gaping black holes.

_He’s fucking high._

Anger flowed through him.

Strider was fast, he was suddenly standing behind him, and Karkat was forced to drop into a crouch to avoid the swing of the sword. 

When Karkat stood, his teeth were bared,

“You motherfucking piece of fucking garbage.”

Karkat dodged a blow and kneed Strider in the dick.

“You’re supposed to take fucking care of him you useless sack of _SHIT_.”

Strider fell to his knees, grunting in pain, he kept a stone grip on his sword.

Katkat reached for the brim of his hat, tossing it to the side. He grabbed a fist full of crisp jelled hair, tearing the mans head down as he brought his knee up, colliding with his face. Strider’s nose made a sickening cracking sound.

“Karkat,”

Dave’s voice was strained,

“man what the fuck is wrong with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If yall wanna hmu on tumblr im rampantrimmer27, ill answer Qs bout this fic or somethin idk, whatever you want
> 
> if you catch any spellin/grammatical mistakes feel free to lemme know in the comments, love getting those, yall r sick as fuck 🤟


	7. Witless and Weighted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fuzzy feeling and I miss you  
> Why can nothing stay the same  
> Fucking stupid head i'm gonna kill you  
> Melt all your art and drink the paint  
> I am not a beast I'm not a monster  
> I don't care what you say  
> You can't have the bad guys without a hero  
> And I'm the only one who's got a cape  
> \- Pigeon, by Cavetown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo i put a song n the summary cuz it came on while i was writin an i thot it fit pretty damn well
> 
> Wanted to thank yall for the comments you left. i kno i said this way too many times but i really care bout this, n hearing that yall do too is the best fuckin feelin. So thank you
> 
> TW: Blood, briefly mentioned drug use, referenced child abuse

Karkat just... _walked_. 

His legs kept carrying him forwards. He’d lost track of where he’d come from a few blocks back, and there was never a point when he knew where he was going. 

Too many emotions flooded his head, he could barely make it a few yards at a time without stumbling and tripping on his own feet. Embellishing his ratty leather boots with scuff marks. 

The air was crisp and cool, humidity hung around him as the early morning sun rose. It nipped through the holes in his sweater, the largest one that gaped wide on his right sleeve letting the frigid air flow freely through, biting at his skin. The streets were silent save for the few black birds that perched on power lines. They chortled and sang, faded to background noise.

His calves ached, his head swam with bitter guilt and anger. Full of Daves face.

_“Get out.”_

Thats all he said. Thats all he had to say. Karkat could read those lifeless expressions. It was in the way his shoulders were dropped in a precise and calculated imitation of relaxation. His voice smooth and flat, as if his words were a suggestion, as if he didn’t really care what Karkat did in response. 

All Karkat could see was the wall Dave had erected in his face. A clear sign that read ‘ _you aren’t welcome here_ ’.

Wordlessly, he’d grabbed his weapons and closed his bag with them inside. Then he unlatched the window, pushed it open, and climbed through. He didn’t look back, just started moving.

His feet thudded dully against the pavement, emptiness taking him over, a hollow lack of feeling spreading beneath his skin. He walked until the sun was over his head and his stomach groaned in protest. He walked when the sky faded to orange and pink, and he walked when stars hung in the sky.

And then he stopped. This place was familiar. A wide open park. A bench he’d seen before. He moved over to it and sat down. The blood came rushing back to his legs. His feet tingled as feeling returned to them. His fingers had grown numb in the cold air of the night. He tilted his head back. The stars were harder to see here than they’d been back home where he’d grown up. He’d heard of light pollution, but he never really understood how it worked. 

Maybe it’s how your eyes adjust to brighter light, so when you look up at the starts, some are too dim to notice. That way you cant see what you aren’t prepared to see. Karkat speculated, he was probably wrong.

He’d never imagined that Dave would love his brother. He’d seen how Dave flinched when Karkat moved to quickly. How metal scraping metal made his face go blank. Every sign that his Bro’s constant violence was doing damage, but when Karkat heard that strain in Daves words, it hit him like a brick to the head.

_He loves this man._  
_He really actually fucking loves him._

Karkat looked down at the blood soaked fabric of the jeans he’d borrowed from Dave. His right knee decorated with a shock of red. 

He remembered the anger he felt, that shot through him like a bolt of lightning. Crackling and burning from the inside. Dave’s Bro was high and swinging a sword at his sleeping child. Fucking pathetic coward.

_And Dave loves him._

He sat back on the bench, letting his head lull against his chest. He was exhausted, sleep overtook him in seconds.

When he awoke some time later he was blinking in confusion. A moments thought of, _why is it so cold? Where’s Dave?_ Before reality shifted into place, and the crushing weight in his chest returned.

He’d never been this alone. Not once in his life. 

Something about it, the helpless misery, was kind of freeing. He has nothing to do with himself. No one to return to. It feels like drifting out to sea, leaving the rolling tides and gentle waves behind. Just open seas. No going back. Water filling lungs, the ache and burn tearing through him. The drowning may always be brutal, but it could’ve simultaneously been peaceful. 

If only he could accept his death. If not for something deep inside him that made him thrash in the water, fighting to stay afloat. Ideas laced with deceptive hope. 

_Go back. Save him.  
Teach him how to stop loving that man._

His breath left him in a shuddering sigh. He kept walking. 

Judging by where the sun hung in the sky, it was around noon when the pain in his stomach became too overbearing to ignore.

He pushed open the doors to a 7/11, not a cent to his name.

He could only imagine how this looked to the employees that shot him sideways glances as he moved through the isles. His ripped up sweater, faded blood splattered jeans, and the ratty old messenger bag he’d been carrying around since he was old enough to start working.

He probably looked undoubtedly suspicious, but if you’re stealing shredded cheese from a 7/11, you’re either a stupid teenager having a manic episode, or you’re unbelievably down on your luck. The only thing keeping him from getting arrested was a deep sense of pity that he could read in the employees looks. 

He stayed in isles the security cameras couldn’t spot, shoving whatever looked edible and didn’t need preparation. Cereal took up a lot of space, so he only grabbed one, a box of cookies, a bag of cheese, whatever he could get his hands on. 

Someone stepped into the isle he was in. His head snapped over to them, his nerves high and heart pounding. 

A girl with pinned back dark coils of hair, an employee’s uniform, and eyes full of sympathy. She turned down a different isle, taking a route that left him free to escape with the food.

This town is full of nice people, and enough of them probably know about kids like him. He wouldn’t be surprised if a few knew his face. They think they know why he’s here, they know it’s not his fault.

Wordlessly, he left, walking far enough away that the 7/11 was out of sight a few blocks away. He stood in front of an Olive Garden, one he’d been to countless times, but never seen the inside of. Walking around to the back of it, he sat down in the employee only parking lot. 

He opened his bag, sickles, somehow left unbloodied after his fight. The memory of them would’ve sent pain through him, but the pain had been there from the second Dave opened his mouth. It had never left. He couldn’t forget it for a second.

He shoved handfuls of cheese and cereal into his mouth. It wasn’t the best thing he’d ever eaten, but it definitely wasn’t the worst. 

He felt that helplessness seep in.

He glanced to the concrete next to him. It was adorned with a gross looking splatter of brown. He scrunched up his nose. There were a few red shards of something stuck in the dried mess. Karkat stood, taking a few steps closer to it. 

Thats when something caught his eye. A crushed pair of red tinted cat-eye sunglasses with bent black frames.

His blood ran cold.

_Fuck._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hehehe sthat a cliffhanger rite there? u bet ur sweet ass it is.  
> i slipped in a subtle refrence to tht time i stole a bag of shredded cheese durin a manic episode
> 
> lmao luv u guys, thanks for stickin w/me


	8. Let Go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ayyyy motherfucks i put off all my super important hella manditoree work to rite bout a kid with too many danger sticks
> 
> TW: Withdrawals, drug addiction, child abuse, disassociation

Dave was filled with nothing but bitterness. It scorched his throat and built tension that begged to be released. A rubber band stretched just a little too far, a taught bowstring, a fist pulled back, aching to land a hit. 

His Bros attacks that caught him in his sleep had been gone for so long. Long enough for him to think he was safe. He was never fucking safe. Why would that just randomly change? 

Tears that would never fall pricked at his eyes as he forced his muscles to stay relaxed. He pressed his mouth into a straight line. He made his breathing come in evenly. The only thing that betrayed him was the tightness in his jaw. The muscles in his head were shoved against his temples hard enough to give him a headache.

He was so fucking stupid. Karkat acting like Dave had to be protected. Like he wasnt fully fucking capable of defending himself. He’s not a damsel in distress. He’s a fucking Strider. He doesn’t need chick flick obsessed assholes standing guard. 

He sure as fuck doesn’t need to be staring into nothing all day losing his shit about it like a fucking child. He was fine without Karkat before and he’d be fine without him now.

Every one of his emotions bubbled under the surface. Screaming for him to yell or hit something or cry or do literally anything to release the pressure. He forced the feeling aside. 

He’d been staring vacantly long enough for his computer screen to go black. He jammed his thumb against the spacebar to wake it up.

How many times in the past two and a half weeks did he spend sitting in this chair with Karkat just behind him. 

He tightened his grip on the mouse. 

The room was dead silent. Daves breathing was just quiet enough to fall short of breaking through it. 

His fingers moved about the keyboard. Every time he tried to add another line to his essay his mind piled on another bitter memory, and the words he wanted to write got mixed in with the cascade of thoughts. He couldn’t focus on any one of them long enough to form a sentence and type it out

His breath left him in a frustrated sigh that constricted his diaphragm almost painfully.

He stood from his computer, and crawled into bed. 

The phantom feeling of a rough fabric under his hands. The echo of a solid weight resting against him. The feeling of safety and contentment that was just a memory now. It all ate away at him.

Karkat was gone, and Dave wasn’t sure if he’d ever see that face again. If he’d ever hear that voice. Feel the drag of his skin under his fingertips. It ached.

He lay on top of the covers, clutching himself in a tight embrace. His eyebrows drew together, his mouth pressed firmly into a line. He was never going to cry, not really, but one tear escaped and slipped down his face. He let it hit the comforter. 

Thats all he’d give himself. The grieving period was over. He’d keep moving forward. Striders don’t need grief. His Bro made sure he knew that.

His eyes slipped shut, and let himself fall into sleep. 

The next two days passed.

Dave burned some of what Bro had bought for Karkats cooking in a frying pan. He’d watched Karkat do it before, but he really didn’t know what he was doing, and he couldn’t bring himself to care. He ate it out of the pan with a knife and fork. 

That was the first and last time he’d eaten since Karkat left. Since he made Karkat leave.

Every time he wasn’t distracted by something mundane and trivial his thoughts were on Karkat. The name felt so hollow in his head.

“Fuck off lil’ man.”

Dave seized.

Bro’s voice, slurred and scratchy, but loud. Clear.

“I’m not too hot on re- _agh fuck_ , repeatin’ myself.”

Dave was bolted in place.

“Fuck off.”

A bang jolted Dave back to reality. He grabbed his sword from the kitchen counter.

Dave moved through the house silently. He had to brace himself for every corner he rounded.

Bro was- 

“ _Fuck off_.”

He was sitting on the ground in Dave’s room, leaned up against the wall. His white shirt stained with sweat.

He almost never came in here, unless it was for an attack. A katana was embedded in Dave’s closet door. Bro listed to one side.

Dave watched his Bro, keeping a strained grip on the hilt of his sword.

The silence dragged on.

Daves throat was dry.  
“Sup.”

  
Bros head turned to face him.   
“Get the fuck out.”

“Kay man, got it.”  
Dave backed away slowly, foot over shaking foot.

“Get outta my fuckin’ _house_.”

  
What Karkat saw in Bro’s eyes. What made Karkat take it too fucking far. Dave had seen it too. The wide pupils, the whites of his eyes that burned red against that thin ring of orange.

He was high.

 _Withdrawals_. 

Dave doesn’t know where he pulled that word from. He’d heard it. He didn’t know what it caused.

‘ _Out of my fuckin’ house.’_

Dave felt like his mind was miles away from his body. Like he was watching this from afar. The laugh that left him cracked like ice in hot water,  
“Yeah, sounds great.”

Dave’s voice didn’t belong to him. It echoed from miles away,  
“That way you can die of a stroke in an empty house like the cool motherfucker you are.”

Dave wasn’t going to leave. He knew that. 

Bros head lolled against his chest.

_Wow._

_I really am alone, aren’t I._

Its never really sunk in before. There was no one in his corner. Not a single friend or a fucking guardian.

It was just

Dave, and the crushing weight of all of this.

He sat down on the ground, his face blank.

Dave, a 16 year old kid, yeah, he’s a fucking kid, not a _man_ , and all of this.

He remembered Karkats soft, curled hair against his face, between his fingers. That gravely voice, spitting insults like exposition. The laugh that rolled off his tongue and settled like a burst of light in Daves stomach.

He felt so far away. 

So he cried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yoooooo  
> i dont think i talk bout how rad yall n the commens hav been cuz u’ve been raaaad  
> anyway see yall l8r  
> hav a ood mornign nite


	9. Fixin’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick Q, how obvius was it that id chuged haf a bottl f NyQuill befor i wrote the notes for th last chaptr?
> 
> TW: Threats of violence, mention of drug use, referenced violence

Karkat had never rolled his eyes harder in his life. His voice dripped with aggravated sarcasm,  
“So the guy you’re _definitely not_ fucking just shows up behind the trashy Olive garden you work at late at night to have secretive and definitely not creepy as all fuck ‘ _conversations_ ’ with a fucking minor, and you never once pulled your empty cavern of a head far enough out of your gaping shitstained asshole to think,”   
His voice dropped into a mock of a British accent to match man in front of him,  
“‘ _huh, maybe thats a little fucking weird_ ’?” 

  
“Well, God dang it, you do make it sound rather silly when you put it that way,”  
The huge muscled dork in the work uniform went red in the face. He fiddled with the arm of his glasses, letting out a strained chuckle,  
“Heavens to Betsy, you sure are the sort to get straight to the point of things, I will give you that, chum.”

Karkat groaned loudly.

“But, yes, I’ve been working here a good few years you know.”  
He boasts, as if working at the Olive Garden in the middle of a town that no one has ever heard of is something on par with a medal of valour,  
“Since his settling down Dirk Strider has been venturing out back every so often to meet up with a rather young lady.”

Karkat snarled,  
“Yeah, so you’ve already told me in the most convoluted way physically possible, multiple times in the same godawful conversation. Trust me, I remember, my ears are still begging for a merciful death.”  
His voice bordered on a growl,  
“And once again, you never thought that was a little _fucking weird_?”

“Now, no need to pitch a fit, youngster.”  
The man crossed his arms sternly,  
“I swear, you could drive a preacher to drink with that attitude of yours. I’m sure dear Dirk has his reasons for this behaviour. He does certainly love to keep his cards close to his chest.”

Karkat’s eyes were back to rolling,  
“Im not here to listen to you spew putrid garbage over your obsession with some idiot crackheads pecs, I just want to know where the fucking girl is.”

The man’s green eyes widened,   
“The young woman? Im afraid you’re barking up the wrong tree young man.”  
He gawked, spluttering and flustered.  
“She hurried off, tail between her legs long before I came ‘round. I’ve seen her in passing, sure, but you’d have to ask Strider himself, and he tends to be quite the recluse.”

Karkat hunched his shoulders,  
“Oh don’t worry _fuckass_ , were already pleasantly fucking aquatinted.”

The man hums in a mocking sympathy,  
“He does tend to have that effect.”

Suddenly Karkat is aware of how far this man towers above him, a threatening glare in his eye fixes on Karkat,  
“And I wouldn’t go trying to pick a fight with a man of his caliber. You’d have to face his sword _and_ my pistol, young man, and I’m not raring to believe you could hold your ground.”

“Oh you fucking think?“  
Karkat sneered, baring his teeth wolfishly,   
“Of course a lowly street kid like me couldn’t beat that sack of shit. But boy have I got some shocking news for you, asswipe, he’s got a broken nose and a shrivelled up kicked in dick that beg to fucking differ.”

The man scoffed,  
“Now that’s something that would take me a gander to believe.”

“So that’s it? Thats all you’ve got for me?”  
Karkat shook his head,  
“I’m going to die stuck in a mind numbing idiotic cycle of ‘ _go ask your dad_ ’ until the end of my miserable fucking existence?”

The man opened his mouth to answer, but Karkat had already turned and stomped off. 

He had to figure out where she was, if she was alive, and none of his bullshit with Dave was about to stop him.

He had a dysfunctional household to visit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter goes on fr way 2 long, so it mite take me a wile to get done, specially with all th work ‘ve got t finish.  
> Once again, ur all sick s fuck, see ya next time if im lucky ohohoho


	10. Stumble and Shove

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kay imma split this chapter int peices so i cn put out more w/o long waits between chapters. 
> 
> TW: Drunkenness, implied alcohol use/abuse, implied child abuse, internalized victim blaming, implied drug dealing, implied drug abuse, implied violence.

Dave ran the scenario over and over.

He’d throw a punch, maybe spit something sarcastic and degrading. He at least thought he’d be angry.

_Sorry to disappoint_ , he thought dryly.

All he felt was empty.

The second he’d opened the door he was met with Karkat’s features set in anger, but it all softened when those tired eyes fixed on Dave.

As he took Karkat in, a sense of pity gnawed at his stony resolve.

At a first glance nothing had changed.

A closer look, and the bags under his eyes had deepened, his clothes (still the same ratty sweater and blood smattered jeans he’d left in) were flecked with mud and dulled with dirt.

The bag over his shoulder weighted him down on one side. Leaving him tilted awkwardly. His eyes were unfocused and his knees were locked as if he’d fall over with the slightest shove. In short, it looked like he’d spent three days sleeping outside.

Dave’s tongue felt dry and heavy as lead in his mouth. His head was full of cotton and weighted with numbness. All he can come up with is a need to fill the silence.

“you plan on staying conscious this time?”

The breathy laugh Karkat let out was bordering on delirious.

“I’ll try,”

That voice. Dave felt an ache set into his chest. He wanted that voice to completely surround him. Overtake his thoughts until it was the only thing he could focus on. He was a little shaken by the magnitude of his own desperation.

Karkat snorted,

“I still look like shit.”

“I uh,”

Dave muttered,

“I dont really,”

He coughed, clearing his throat,

“I dont fucking know what I’m supposed to do right now.”

Karkat nodded sympathetically. Dave forced his gaze away from Karkat, he couldn’t keep looking into those exhausted eyes.

“I mean, it’s not like there are manuals for this kind of thing.”

Karkat let out a shuddering sigh. Dave had nothing else to resort to aside from this: his default.

“Like a ‘ _how to talk to the guy you maybe probably, yeah definitely unfairly sent to live on the streets_ ’ guide, because how fuckin’ useless would that be. That’s the kind of thing I would buy for ironies sake and it would definitely end up being lame as all fuck. It’d end up getting left under a bunch of dusty puppet ass all neglected.“

Karkat’s stare was vacant. Karkat never looked at him like that, there was obviously something wrong, but that just fuelled the anxiety building in Dave’s stomach.

“Point is It would sell one single copy and it would be to the sort-of-maybe-not-really son of a crack addicted puppet pornographer, which isn’t ideal from a business standpoint. Unless that’s their target demographic, which, if so: kudos.”

Dave raised his eyebrows,

“Wow, I guess I’ve never said that out loud.”

Karkat tilted his head, narrowing his eyes quizzically.

“Im the maybe son of a crack addicted puppet pornographer.”

Karkat’s eyebrows raised.

“Yeah i know this is news to you dude, but he definitely makes those innocent puppets fuck while he sells the footage to losers who get off on plush puppet ass fucking. Kind of genius not gonna lie.”

Dave brought a hand to the back of his neck,

“Man you know I’m just gonna keep talking until something stops me. I’m on a roll here, I’ve got this flow and there ain’t a chance of me losing it unless theres some divine intervention.”

Karkat swayed where he stood, grabbing the doorframe for support.

“I guess that works too.”

Dave said, scrambling to lift Karkat’s weight with an arm around his waist. Dave shuddered at the sparks that flew up his spine from the contact.

Karkat snorted, but then fell silent. Dave helped him stumble to the couch, settling into the cushions.

Karkat seemed to curl in on himself,

“M’really fuckin’ sorry dude, I just- fuck- you’re gonna hate this shit,”

He mumbled,

“but I wanted to keep you safe.”

Dave chewed at his lip,

“Uh,”

He picked at the fabric of his shirtsleeve,

“ _Fuck_.”

Karkat looked up at him. Tired bleary eyes struggling to focus on his face.

Dave sat down on the couch next to him, folding one knee beneath him. He faced Karkat,

“Can I? Um.”

Karkat nodded sluggishly, his arms unfolding, his legs shifting out of the way. He slumped forward into Daves chest, his head landing solidly. Daves arms came to wrap snugly around him. Dave tipped his head, burying his face in Karkat’s mussed greasy hair. He honestly didn’t care about the oily feeling against his skin. Karkat felt so good against him.

“I’m sorry.”

Karkat’s voice was muffled against Daves shirt.

Dave made a noncommittal hum into Karkat’s hair and held him as close as he could.

A noise like a grunt sounded from the kitchen.

Dave tensed immediately. Karkat shoved him back.

“Ya got your lil’ chef back.”

A gravely southern accent grumbled.

“Strider.”

Karkat snarled. He still looked hazy and tired, but when he stood his stance was steady. Dave didn’t know what was keeping him upright. Adrenaline, maybe.

Dave cleared his throat. He raised an eyebrow to Bro, sure the message was clear. A ‘ _You’re going to pick this fight again? Seriously?’_

“Karkat chill.”

He kept his tone casual.

“ _Fine_.”

When Karkat spoke, it was with a venom that dripped from each syllable,

“But if you think I’m leaving without what I came for you can shove that bullshit up your ass with the rest of your rambling idiocy.”

_What he came for?_

“Okay.”

Dave shrugged,

“Just keep it on the cool side, another bitchy ‘ _defending Daves honour like he’s a helpless maiden_ ’ fight and you’re out.”

“Fine.”

Bro came to stand behind the couch, towering a foot and a half over Karkat. His blank face turned down on them.

“Alright, lil’ man.”

The way Bro stood was suddenly and jarringly unimposing. His usual stance of feet apart, shoulders squared was replaced with a casual slouch.

Confusion swam in Daves head. He struggled not to let it show.

“You wann’talk th’sout? Le’s do this.”

_Oh, drunk, obviously._

Dave stood, he didn’t like feeling looked down on,

“Yeah, why not shake it up.”

He moved closer to Karkat,

“So introductions? Or is it ‘ _chef_ ’ and ‘ _Strider_ ’ till the end?”

The room was heavy with silence.

“Fine,”

Dave tilted his head toward Karkat,

“Bro, this is Karkat, he’s a friend, not a knife block.”

Dave reached over and lay a hand on Karkat’s shoulder,

“And Karkat, this is my Bro, the primary provider of any shelter and food I’ve got, I’d appreciate it if you left his head on his shoulders.”

“I uh,”

Bro mumbled,

“hey.”

Bro brought a hand up to wave, the gesture awkwardly stilted, as if he was a robot attempting to mimic something he’d watched a human do one time from a mile away. The confusion that crawled under Daves skin only built. He raised an eyebrow.

Karkat rolled his eyes hard,

“when was the last time you actually spoke to another human being.”

Bro opened his mouth to respond,

“to do something other than suck their dick.”

Karkat added.

Daves eyebrows rose.

Bro closed his mouth.

Daves eyebrows shot high enough to be seen over his shades.

“Yeah, I met your secret Olive Garden fuck buddy, I would say ‘ _you could do better_ ’ but honestly that buff idiot with an empty cavern where his brain should be is a perfect fit for you.”

Bro shrugged.

Karkat grumbled under his breath. He steadied one hand on the back of the couch, hopping over it and invading Bro’s space.

“You met with some kid,”

Bro’s jaw tensed.

“So?”

“ _So_ ,”

Karkat growled,

“what the fuck did you do to her.”

‘ _what did you do to her.’_

Jesus. He knew Bro was strong, he didn’t have a problem swinging a sword in Dave’s direction and calling it training. Dave could live with that.

But the idea of it happening to someone else? His first thought was

_Whoever Karkat’s asking about definitely doesn’t fucking deserve that._

His second,

_Then why should I deserve it?_

That train of thought tore through him. He clenched his jaw, pushing that feeling down.

Dave raised a hand,

“Pardon my interruption, gentlemen, but could someone explain what the fuck he’s talking about.”

Bro tilted his head down,

“I buy from some chick, sh’took the money, didn’ave what I needed.”

Dave breathed deep,

“ _So?”_

Bro was silent.

“What did you do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hehehhehehhe lov me some cliffs, hangin is an occupational hazard of bein a reader in these parts. 
> 
> Toodles 😎


	11. Time and Place

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this hiatus is over, im back from living in the woods and shitting in an outhouse.  
> Im idiotically proud of this chapters title, "Time" as in the aspect that values action over passive acceptance, and "Place" foreshadowing a setting change hehe im a huge loser

When Bro Strider learns something that pisses him off, he knows the exact look he gets in his eyes. The muscles around them tighten minutely, and they glaze over, because his first response is always to retreat into the confines of his head. Find somewhere safe where he can rework reality to fit his ideals. He can fix everything, plan appropriately, and return to the waking world without any need for panic. His defence responses are perfectly attuned to the way he thinks. 

This kid is the polar opposite. When he hears what Bro did to that girl, the blind one he’d watched limp away late at night doused in her own blood, he explodes outwards faster than Bro can follow with his eyes. His attack once again was reckless and fueled by instantaneous hatred. Before he could take in a breath a fist obscured his vision, slamming into the pointed shades on his nose. The shades he’s been wearing since early childhood collapse under the pressure, pain blossoming where the bridge embeds between his eyes. Shards of glass narrowly miss his wide open corneas, they bury into his head. He has the kids limited stature and the angle of his swing to thank for the lack of permanent retinal damage. 

Bro’s reaction is immediate. He punches the full force of his fist into the kid’s ribcage, hopefully causing enough damage to throw off any intended retaliation . 

Calling him “kid” and “chef” was catered to remind him where he stands under this roof. Make sure he knows he isn’t in any position of authority here, but fuck it. This ratty little teenager has earned it. Someone who has the nerve to successfully smash Bros shades in deserves to be on a first name basis.

Karkat recovered from the attack with more deftness than he had any right to, squaring his shoulders, but his momentary loss of motor control gave Bro enough time to ready a counter. He grabbed Karkat’s bicep in one hand, leveraging a palm on the back of his neck. Bro twisted him into a headlock, using the strength of his shoulders to gain control of Karkats upper body. Before he could put the advantage to use, drop to the floor and pin Karkat down like he had planned, a jagged thumbnail stabbed into his eye socket, the flat of a sweaty palm pushing back against his bloodied face.

Fuck, he knows this move, easiest trick to getting out of a hold like this one. Karkat is somehow catching him off guard with it using nothing but sheer speed and brute force. Bro’s leg is swept out from under him, his full towering height crashing to the ground. 

Bro’s head collided with the floorboards, a heavy thwack resonating in his skull. Nausea rolled in his stomach, his vision blurred, more in the throbbing eye that had been shoved into his head. Despite the impairment, he could still make out the features of the snarling face glaring down at him. The lines around Karkat's eyes were deep and exhausted, but the rage that pulled his expression taughtly made him look dangerous enough to send fear racing under Bro’s skin. That fist connected with his jaw again, harder this time, with the floor to anchor his head. He felt something crack. 

He canted upwards in an effort to gain ground. He twisted his hips, flipping their positions and trapping Karkat beneath him. Bro reeled back and punched the kid in the eye. Just then, a solid weight slammed into his side. Bro hit the floor heavily.

A voice, angered, exhausted, scraping through every syllable with the kind of desperation that takes long painful years to manifest.

“DON’T TOUCH HIM.”

Dave’s voice is hysterical, through the haze of his vision, Bro can see tears streaked down the boy’s reddened face.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?”

For the third time in the past few minutes, knuckles snap something in Bro’s face.

Dave’s weight is gone the next second, but Bro could still hear his familiar shaken muttering. His vision was fading, but he blinked hard, rolling to one side. It took every ounce of control he had left to haul himself to his feet. He looked down at his little brother, the same dark round shades as always. Still wearing the faded red record shirt he’d bought himself too many years ago, long sleeves covering a decade of scars Bro could see with his eyes closed. Dave huddled silently in the arms of the other boy. It was a pathetic sight, a position Bro could never allow himself to get caught in.

He knows Dave is different though. Vulnerable, built to stand alongside other people the way Bro never has been. It’s why Dave is going to leave him one day. He’s known that for a very long time, but never before has that fact been laid out more clearly than in this moment. 

Bright red blood gushed from his nose, the nose Dave had broken himself. It contrasted gruesomely where it marred the white of his polo, gleaming where it coated his fingers. 

Bro turned, heading for the front door, 

and he left.

\----

Dave was shaking, his head buried in Karkat’s chest. He mumbled nonsensical phrases under shuddering breath that Karkat only caught bits and pieces of. 

“Fuckin’ time.”

Dave babbled, tears soaking into Karkat’s sweater.

“Every time, motherfucker. Guns blazing.”

He let out a scratchy laugh,

“He knows how to stop you. He could just throw you down, grab a knife, end it there. He has one on him, always does. I know, trust me man, I fucking know him better than a fly knows horseshit.”

Karkat said nothing. He ran a calming hand through Dave’s hair, selfishly trying to memorize the feeling of holding him close. The weight of him here, the silk hair under his fingers, the warmth of his body tucked against his. He waited for the other shoe to drop, for Dave to remember who threw the first punch and throw him out. He kept the comfort while he could.

Dave’s skin felt feverishly warm, but he wouldn’t stop clinging closer, his shades digging into Karkat’s sweater.

“Sorry man, shit’s so fuckin’ lame, sobbing like a war widow.”

Karkat ran his palm down Dave’s spine, under Karkat’s hand, he felt him shiver at the feeling,

“Fuck off,”

He murmured, breaths ghosting through Dave’s hair.

“you’re doing fine.”

Dave’s constant stream of speech tapered, it came to a stop as he melted into Karkat’s hold. They sat there tangled on the blood smeared floor until eventually, Karkat looked down to see Dave’s eyes shut behind his shades. His breaths even and deep. 

The idea that Dave could possibly still trust him filled him with hope he wished wasn't false. Just watching him relax in Karkat’s arms was enough to make him feel full. Though, he held an underlying craving to be closer, to take more. He wanted to press Dave into his chest and keep him there forever.

He knew he'd have to leave him though. He couldn't stay here knowing Terezi could be injured somewhere. Dirk’s words replayed in his head, 

‘She didn’t have what I needed’. 

That made anxiety boil under Karkat’s skin. He had to find her, he wasn’t the type to sit around worrying without finding a solution. 

For now though, he held onto Dave and let him rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The working title of this chapter was originally:  
> "Bro got one (1) fear: ):B


End file.
